Why Derek and Casey Really Shouldn't be Allowed to Make Bets
by mountainrangeonfire
Summary: Derek and Casey make a bet, and it ends just about as well as it ever does. Or possibly worse, depending on how you look at it. Poor Sam gets dragged in too. Dasey.
1. Chapter 1

**here's a thing I wrote. I don't know how I feel about it. It was just kinda an idea I had for a multi-chapter, but I haven't done a multi-chapter before, so I don't know if I'm capable of it :/. Let me know your thoughts!**

**I own nada.**

Sam Richards was sitting at the kitchen table when his attention was unceremoniously jerked away from his Econ textbook, and towards the tornado that had just blown through the doorway of his apartment. This wasn't any ordinary tornado though. Instead of being the result of a clash between hot and cold atmosphere, it was the result of a clash between Derek Venturi and Casey McDonald. Who, admittedly, could both be at times both hot and cold. (No, Sam most definitely did _not_ just call his best friend hot. It's just that, well, an unbiased observer _would_.)

"No chance Casey. Not gonna happen. Not even if you paid me," Was the first thing Sam was able to discern after their entrance. He hadn't the slightest idea what they were fighting about (half the time he wondered if even _they _knew), but whatever it was, I was HUGE. It had to be if Derek was so opposed to it he was willing to pass up the opportunity to make a profit.

Derek dropped his bag by the door and made a beeline for the fridge, pulling out a toxic, caffeinated "energy" drink that not even Sam would consume. Casey was standing on the opposite side of the kitchen's island from Derek (an image that reminded Sam of high school and the already too-full house that he had spent as much time at as his own), her bag still perched neatly on her shoulder despite all the stomping and frantic arm-flailing she had been doing. Her face was red and her breaths short, not an uncommon occurrence during a conflict between her and Derek. Derek looked mildly irritated, masking his usual lack of control during these spats as he tended to do in public.

"But you have to," she whined. Sam winced. Was it possible for that sound to actually damage your ears? From the look on Derek's face, he assumed the two of them were thinking the same thing. "I can't do it on my own! And as my brother, you should feel obligated to help me."

Derek's eyes narrowed in a way that wasn't the least bit comical. "If I really am your brother," he spit the word out with disdain (he had never really gotten over the whole "same difference" thing, and it had been two years!) "Then I would be trying to scare this guy off, not throw him into your bed."

Derek was adamant. But Sam was wary. Over the past two-ish years, since the three of them had started at Queens, Casey had found herself party to a close friendship among them (even if Derek wouldn't admit it). Casey liked to call them the three musketeers. Derek liked to call them the world's smallest gang. Sam liked to call them punishment for a past life that _must_ have been led as a serial killer.

This was how Sam knew that Casey was to be feared. She only used the "b word" when she was desperate, because in all honesty she hated referring to him as family as much as he did. So this was most definitely something she wasn't giving up on. And knowing Casey to be much more terrifying than she was often given credit for, Sam was concerned about his friend.

Casey was clearly getting increasingly agitated. "I hardly know him. But you do. He's your friend _and _teammate! I know you have no desire to see me happy, but what if I'm his soul mate and without me he'll die alone!" She huffed, needing to catch her breath after that rant.

"Can't be worse than spending the rest of his life with you. You're right, he is my friend, and I therefore want to spare him from enduring any sort of relationship with you." The words were biting, but any hint of a teasing tone was absent from his voice. Sam was beginning to get worried.

Here's what he knew. 1) Casey was worked up over some guy. 2) This guy was not only on the hockey team, but someone Derek considered a friend. 3) Casey wanted Derek's help with this guy. 4) Derek did NOT want to help.

Sam briefly wondered why Casey hadn't just gone to him. He would have been more likely to help and less likely to tease her. If this guy was on the hockey team, Sam obviously knew him, and if he was friendly with Derek than he was probably friendly with Sam too. But then he realized that despite the lack of any lingering feelings, and the presence of the strong friendship that emerged, Casey wasn't the type of person to ask her ex for guy advice.

It was killing Sam not knowing who this guy was. Then he remembered; he was capable of communicating with them. It was easy to forget, not only because they often tuned out everything and everyone else when they were going at it, but because Sam often felt like a spectator. It was almost like he was watching them on screen rather than in person. So he finally spoke up.

"Who, may I ask, would you be sparing, D? The sudden introduction of Sam's voice into their debate startled them, but they quickly recovered.

Derek scoffed. "Ben Sheffield. Casey wants me to help her seduce Ben Sheffield." He said, as if it were the most preposterous statement he had ever heard. Which, frankly it kind of was. Ben was a nice guy, but a total Derek clone. He even served as Derek's back up on the team. Casey would practically be dating Derek!

Wait a minute.

"Der-ek! I'm not seducing anybody!" The easiest way to make Casey indignant was to suggest she might act in a way that's remotely sexual. Something Sam thought was a bit embarrassing for a 20 year old woman pursuing a romantic relationship.

"_That's_ for sure." Derek muttered, but his step-sister didn't hear him.

"I simply want you to help me show Ben that he and I could make a great couple." She continued. Someone who didn't know her very well wouldn't have been able to pick up on it, but she was a bit hesitant. Was she embarrassed? Or afraid she wouldn't convince him?

Derek violently tossed his empty can in the recycling bin beside the island. "What makes you think you'd be a great couple?! You barely know the guy!"

"Which is why I need your help!" She pleaded. Things weren't looking good for Casey. But then Sam saw a certain look in her eye. A look he had grown to fear in the six years he had known her. The girl had a trick up her sleeve. Derek better watch out.

It seemed Derek had caught the look too. "How do you think you're gonna get it Princess?" He said condescendingly. The boy had no sense of self-preservation.

Casey surveyed the open-floor plan of the small apartment, glancing from the dining area (a.k.a. the small table where Sam sat) through the cramped kitchen where Derek stood, down the hallway leading to the bathroom and the two boys' bedrooms, finally landing in the area behind her, the "living room" that lay on her side of the island. It included a battered couch they got at a yard sale, a "trendy" chair Casey had somehow persuaded Sam to buy, and their entertainment system. That entertainment system was where her gaze was fixed, specifically on the gaming console.

Casey smirked, sending a shiver down Sam's spine. She must have learned that from Derek. "I'll make you a bet." Sam suppressed a groan. This couldn't end well.

Her step-brother's eyes lit up. "Consisting of what exactly, Case?" He asked cockily. Shouldn't he know better by now?

She smiled at him sweetly. "Babe Raider III. One game. You win, I drop the issue. I win, you help me."

Derek shot back at her the smirk she had given _him_ only moments earlier. "You're on."

"Oh boy," Sam said, but of course it went ignored. It was gonna be a long night, and he could forget about studying for Econ.

The poor boy was proven correct when two hours later a cry of victory rang out through the apartment. It belonged to Casey.

**So should I continue?**


	2. Chapter 2

**sorry this took a while. I wanted to be more punctual, but I've been busy with school and thanksgiving (family and food and house cleaning, oh my!). I know, this is kinda short, but... *shrugs*. I know nothing about hockey, by the way, which is why the descriptions are kinda vague. Hopefully this turned out ok.**

**Seeing as my latest film project was just a bunch of shots of clothes, it's not very likely that I own a retired television show.**

"VENTURI!"

Derek picked his head up at the sound of his name, and looked over to see his coach waving him over. He let out a sigh of relief. It had been a tough practice, and he was having trouble keeping up with the scrimmage they were ending with.

"I'm putting in Sheffield. He needs some time on the ice, and you can barely skate straight. You better be conscious tomorrow if you plan on playing this weekend. If not, well, at least he'll be in decent shape."

"Fair enough coach." Derek knew, believe it or not, that there were some people he really shouldn't pick a fight with.

He probably wouldn't be having this much trouble, he thought as he skated off the ice, if he had slept better last night. But, he had been up late thinking about this stupid bet. Damn his inability to turn down a bet, especially when it came to Casey. He _knew_ she had been sneaking into his apartment and playing Babe Raider while he was out! As a matter of fact, it was more than likely she and _Sam_ played together all the time. That was one thing they had continued to do together long after their break-up.

And now he was stuck helping Casey seduce (he refused to call it anything other than what it was) Ben. Ben, who was currently skating over to the place Derek had just occupied. The boys exchanged a nod. One thing that really differentiated Ben from Derek, he had noticed, was that Ben was a really good sport. While Ben was happy to be a back-up, Derek's pride would never be able to handle playing second-string. Maybe he would have been okay with it as a freshman (not that he had needed to be), but certainly not as a junior.

It was the similarities between the two that unsettled Derek, though. The most obvious was that they played the same position on the team. They also looked fairly similar (brown hair, brown eyes, mischievous smirk...). Derek had found that they liked a lot of the same music, movies, and TV shows. And Ben seemed to share Derek's own weakness for the opposite sex, which meant Casey really wouldn't have to work that hard to get the former's attention.

Not that the last thing applied to Derek.

Oh who was he kidding?

Derek had resigned himself a long time ago to the fact that had Casey not been his stepsister, their relationship would be_ quite_ intimate at this point. But she _was_ his stepsister. And she hated him. And they were total opposites. Though, the opposites thing was a small challenge for someone like Ben, who _wasn't_ her stepbrother. For Derek, on the other hand, it was one of many obstacles that prevented him from having any chance with Casey. Unfortunately, no one told his dreams that. They also didn't tell his dreams that Casey probably didn't have a whole lot of sexual experience.

Yeah, Derek was screwed.

* * *

The good news was that when Derek walked in the door after arriving home from practice that evening he was met with the aroma of cooking meat. The bad news was that Sam was walking in behind him, so obviously he wasn't doing the cooking. This could only mean one thing. They had an unwelcome guest, and Derek had a sinking feeling he knew who it was.

"How was practice?" Casey asked from beside the stove. She bit her lip, bating big, innocent eyes at them. She obviously was hoping that it wouldn't occur to the boys that she didn't belong there. Derek was amazed that she could act so well on stage (not that he would ever _tell_ her that), but off stage a blind man could see right through her.

"How the hell did you get in here?" Derek demanded, while gravitating towards the brunette in his kitchen. Sam rolled his eyes and planted himself on the couch. Both of their hockey bags were left at the door.

"With my key, obviously." Casey wrinkled her nose, which Derek pointedly ignored. He was not going to let her enforce her standards in _his apartment_. The hockey bags stayed.

"You don't have a key. Wait - did you make a copy of my key?!" That sounded like something he would do! (It was something he _did_ do, he had three copies of her key in his sock drawer and she didn't know about a single one.)

"Of course not, I'm not a criminal," she scoffed. Right, of course not. Derek may have driven Perfect Miss Casey to do some devious things, but she wasn't that creative. She cast her eyes down, suddenly finding the counter top very interesting. "Sam gave it to me," she muttered.

Derek spun around to face Sam. "YOU WHAT?! This is why blondes always die first in horror movies, Sammy. They always trust the monster. I thought you had enough experience with Klutzilla to know better!"

Sam turned to his roommate with a look of disbelief and exasperation written all over his face. "She's over here all the time anyways. Her having a key makes our lives _easier_."

Clearly everyone was conspiring against him.

"So, Derek..." Casey cut in. "Are we gonna start working on me and Ben?"

"Tomorrow." Derek growled, and stalked off to his room. It didn't matter how good the meat (beef, he had noticed) cooking on the stove smelled. Suddenly, he had lost his appetite.

**I have a thing for italics, as you may have noticed.**


	3. Chapter 3

**Wow. I'm on a role today. I finished my vid (which can be found on youtube or the dasey tag on tumblr if you're interested) and the second half of this chapter. AND this one's a bit longer for you guys :) Enjoy**

**I don't own anymore than I did last time.**

The next day found Derek standing outside the door to Casey's apartment. This was probably the last place he wanted to be, but he had resigned himself to the fact that he didn't have much of a choice in the matter. He ran a hand through his shaggy brown hair. It was still hard for him to find the motivation to open the door.

As fate would have it, he didn't have to. As he stood there, weighing the pros and cons of changing his name and moving to America to avoid following through on this bet, the door swung open, revealing Casey's roommate, Eloise.

Eloise was tiny, reaching 5'3" at the most without shoes on (she had a few pairs of heels that could boost her up to 5'8"). She had long, wavy, natural blonde hair, bright green eyes, and shockingly pale skin. The girl had an overwhelming amount of enthusiasm, enough to drive even Casey crazy on occasion (not that she wasn't already crazy), but was genuinely really sweet and surprisingly fun, which was why Casey had been up for living with her. Unlike Casey, she could drink Derek himself under the table. The overall impression she left was a cross between a fairy princess and a leprechaun.

The petite blonde jumped a good foot in the air when she found Derek on her doorstep.

"Can I help you hun?" She asked once the shock had passed.

(The 'hun' thing drove Derek insane. It was the main reason he never made a move on her. He always felt like a small child when she spoke to him.)

Derek cleared his throat and attempted to look slightly less apprehensive than he felt.

"Just here to see Case."

"Oooookay then. Well you're not gonna find her under the welcome mat or anything. She's in her room. Go ahead back; I'm on my way out."

"Thanks El" he said with grin.

"Oh, and Derek?"

"Hmm?"

"Can you promise me I won't return to find one of your dead bodies?" She inquired with a smirk.

"Of course! If anything it'll be the both of 'em." Derek shot the girl a smirk of his own, and she rolled her eyes in response. With that, she was gone.

Feeling a bit better after his exchange with Eloise, Derek made his way through the small apartment. Casey, evidently, still was unaware of his presence. When he reached the hallway outside her bedroom, a picture caught his attention. Hanging on the wall, right there at eye level, was the entire McDonald-Venturi clan. On impulse, he knocked it sideways. He sniggered to himself when he imagined how much its misplacement would bug her perfectionist self when she saw it. Then, just as bluntly as he had when they were living in the same house, he barged into her bedroom.

"Knock much?" Casey spun around in the desk chair she was perched on and glared at him. Derek smirked. Yeah, just like the good old days.

"Now Casey. Is that anyway to treat you _favorite_ stepbrother, the one who is going out of his way to rescue your love life from Loser-Ville?"

Casey's glare morphed into a grin reaching from ear to ear and clasped her hands together. She looked like a six year old Marti on Christmas (Or thirteen year old Marti for that matter).

"You're finally ready to help me? Great! Should we start with wardrobe, or etiquette, or conversation topics, or -"

"Whoa whoa whoa. Slow down there Princess." She was getting _way_ ahead of herself. And the excited gleam in her eyes was a little (a lot) frightening. "Before we start, we have to get one thing straight. If this is gonna work, you have to do _exactly_ as I say. No exceptions."

"But -"

"No exceptions!"

Casey frowned. "I don't trust you though."

Derek rolled his eyes at her. "I think I know what I'm doing when it comes to this kinda thing Case."

"I know you have experience in this department. I wish I didn't know it as well as I do, but I know it. I don't trust you not to screw me over _intentionally_ though." She crossed her arms over her chest, giving him that disapproving look that made her look like a grumpy senior citizen. Derek let out a sigh. Did she have to be so difficult?

"I _promise_ that if you do as I say, I won't screw you over."

"Fine." And suddenly she was Marti-on-Christmas again. Honestly, had this woman ever been to a psychiatrist? Because Derek was pretty convinced she had bi-polar disorder. "So what's first?"

"First," he said, plopping on her bed and exuding superiority, "we teach you how to flirt."

Casey gave him a blank look. "Derek. I know how to flirt."

"Sorry Case, but throwing your head back and laughing like the bastard child of a hyena and a school girl while squeezing a guy's biceps with your talons isn't gonna cut it with Ben."

As he was speaking, her eyes were slowly getting darker and darker. By the time he was done, well; let's just say that if looks could kill his head would be on a pike.

"I do not flirt like that Derek!" she growled. Under her breath she added, "I'm not 16 anymore anyways."

"What happened to not challenging me?"

She let out a long suffering sigh. "I guess you're right," she relented as she stood up and made her way over to the bed, sitting down _right_ next to Derek (their legs were pressed together - and it was a double bed). "How _should_ I do it? I really have no idea," she let out in a breathy voice, her finger absentmindedly trailing up his leg. Her lower lip was stuck out in a (absolutely, positively, _not_ sexy) pout. She looked up at him through her eyelashes, and Derek forgot how to breathe. He gulped, desperately trying to find his voice. Where the hell did she learn how to do that?

"That's not exactly the direction I was thinking of going in." He informed her with difficulty, all but leaping off the bed. It was hard for him to form the words and instruct his body to behave at the same time. Lucky for him, she instantly snapped out of "flirting" mode.

"What - what do you mean?" Her face was starting to turn red. Good. She should be embarrassed. Derek sure the hell was. It was reassuring to know he was better at hiding it at least (he thought).

Derek cleared his throat, his brain regaining control. "I mean, you really like this guy, right? You want a relationship with him?"

Casey nodded. "Well, yeah. I'm not exactly the love-em and leave-em type. That's you, Derek."

He graciously ignored her commentary on his love life. Possibly because he still hadn't recovered enough to come up with a witty comeback. It didn't help that she seemed wholly unfazed. Seriously? Sometimes he wondered if she _knew_ the effect she had on him. "Then you should be trying to get him to genuinely like you, not trying to take him to bed."

He couldn't help but think that sounded completely backwards. Since when did _he_ advocate for commitment while _Casey_ behaved like a seductress?

"I guess that makes sense." She said sheepishly. "So, what should I do then?"

Derek, finally managing to relax, sat back down on the bed, leaving a good foot between him and Casey.

"Don't try to drop hints that you're into him, at least not at first. Laugh at his jokes. Smile at him. Don't be afraid to challenge him - he likes girls he can banter with. But keep it friendly and good-natured, you don't want to piss him off or make yourself seem bitchy and unapproachable. I can tell you from experience, you're really good at giving that impression. And do NOT, under ANY circumstances, nag him. That's something else you're too good at."

Casey rolled her eyes. "Is that all? That sounds too easy."

"Well I never said it was hard. At least not for us humans, anyways. You may have trouble grasping the basics of our social interactions, because I assume from your inability to socialize properly that it works differently on your planet." At this point, his head became intimately aquatinted with whatever textbook she had been studying from when he walked in.

"Der-ek!"

"Ow! That's not fair! Textbooks that thick shouldn't be allowed as weapons!"

"Baby." She muttered accusingly with a roll of her eyes. Derek was sure that if she rolled them one more time they would roll right out of her head.

"I'm not a baby! I just need to protect these muscles, my scholarship depends on them!"

"What muscles?"

Even she had to know that was a pretty lame comeback. He may have been scrappy (NOT scrawny _thank you very much_) in high school, but college hockey had required him to bulk up a bit. That one really didn't deserve a response.

"Whatever Space Case, I'm out," he said, pulling himself off the bed.

"Wait, that's it?! Aren't we going to practice or something?" She looked completely bewildered.

"Sorry, you're only registered for basic consultation with The Relationship God. Full-service consultation costs extra."

"But Derek, that's not enough to prep me! We only covered flirting!" Wow. She was worked up.

"Chillz, Casey. I'll come back tomorrow for your next lesson. For now... Practice on Eloise." And with that, he sauntered out of the room. He could hear Casey growling behind him. A smirk formed on his face as a thought popped into his head, and he spun around to face her. They were now in the hallway, standing right next to that damned picture. He assumed she was too distacted by her frustration to pay attention to it.

"Oh, one more thing."

"What is it?" She looked up attentively, all signs of hostility gone. It scared him a little bit how invested in this she was.

"Do whatever you can to draw attention to your lips. It'll make him think of sex."

He took her internal conflict over whether to accept this as legitimate advice or to lash out because of its suggestive nature as an opportunity to escape. He managed to repress his laughter at her; right up until the point when she screamed "Der-ek!" as he walked out the door. She must have finally noticed the picture.

**Thoughts?**


	4. Chapter 4

**Okay, I know this took forever. I had the first half written a long time ago, but I had trouble with the second half. So, I hope you enjoy, and let me know what you think!**

A tired, sweaty Derek ambled across campus the next night. Practice had been especially grueling, but he knew that going along with this stupid mission would require less energy than dealing with a pissy Casey. Luckily, Sam had been willing to take Derek's hockey bag home with him, so at least Derek didn't have to carry that around.

His stomach started grumbling about halfway through his walk, and he found himself standing outside a small deli on campus. Casey's favorite deli. Following his appetite inside, he bought himself a club sandwich and, as an afterthought, the vegetarian chili for Casey. Derek thought it was repulsive, but she loved the stuff. Once he had his food purchases, he continued on his way.

Ten minutes later he was on her doorstep, just like the day before. This time, however, he was far too tired to put off going inside. He knocked with his free hand, and the door swung open almost immediately.

"Derek!" Casey squealed. Yeah, that's right, she actually squealed. For him. Eloise gave Casey the same baffled look Derek was giving her, though Derek's was soon replaced with a smirk.

"I know seeing me is the highlight of your day Case, but you could try a little harder to hide it."

Casey rolled her eyes, but the mirth hadn't totally left them. "On the off chance you _get over yourself_ anytime soon, you'll realize that you're not the source of my excitement, simply the vehicle for it."

Derek stepped inside and made his way to the kitchen counter with the bag from the deli. "I get it. You just want me for my chili."

"Chili – what are you talking about?" Then she caught sight of the bag. "Is that the vegetarian chili from Vinnie's?"

"Must be, nothing else has that funky smell."

"I guess three and a half years living with _your_ stench has desensitized me to it."

"Uh, Case?" Eloise interjected, "I thought you said you didn't have dinner plans."

"Sorry El, I didn't. Derek just decided to be considerate for once in his life."

"Hey! I was not being considerate! I just didn't want to subject myself to listening to you complain as you watched me eat." Derek huffed in mock indignation. "Sorry 'bout that Eloise. I didn't realize you'd be here."

"No worries," she responded, and impish grin creeping across her face. "A friend of mine has wanted to try the new Thai place anyways. I'll just grab a bite with her."

"Are you sure? I can whip something up, it'd be no trouble." Casey protested.

"It's fine. Eat your chili." Eloise gave Derek a knowing look (one he chose to pointedly ignore), grabbed her purse and jacket, and left, leaving Casey and Derek alone in the apartment.

"You really should've brought Eloise something to eat." Casey chastised, crossing her arms over her chest.

"How would I have known she'd be here?"

"She lives here Derek."

"So? Besides, I can only preform so many good deeds in a day. Just be happy I wasted one on you."

Casey gave him one more disapproving look, but let the issue drop. "Thanks," she said, as she daintily broke into her chili after grabbing a spoon from the kitchen, rather than use the plastic one that had been provided. Derek rolled his eyes at this.

"Yeah, yeah, yeah," he said, unwrapping his sandwich. "Just eat your chili."

"No, no, no, _absolutely_ not…"

"Der-ek! You're making a mess!" Casey screeched as she hastily picked up the items of clothing her step-brother had tossed about the room. Derek spun around from where he was standing in the doorway of her closet, reenergized by his meal (and Casey).

"Don't blame me; blame yourself for not having any suitable clothing."

"What do you mean nothing suitable?" She held one of the garments in her hand up to her body. "I love this dress!"

Derek's eyes raked over the dress in question. It was black, with those straps that are, like, the width of bra straps ("_spaghetti straps"_ Casey's voice said in his head), and the V-neck was dangerously low. The skirt of it looked like it reached down to about mid-thigh.

"Our goal here is not to make you look like a nun, Case," he announced in mock-exasperation. "Especially not the kind found in a porno," he added under his breath. Unfortunately, he wasn't quiet enough.

"This dress is perfectly respectable!" she cried. And then went off on a tangent, something about clothes and feminism. He had mostly tuned her out at that point, but thought he heard the word "autonomy". Not that it mattered, seeing as he had no idea what it meant. (And he knew the dress really wasn't that scandalous, but if Ben's imagination was anything near as creative as his own…)

He was forced out of his obliviousness when she pushed him aside so she could start putting her clothes back in the closet. This prompted him to begin throwing the things he pulled out farther away and in harder to reach places. Being Casey, she took the bait and busied herself with chasing after them.

She was trying to untangle a blouse from her lampshade when he found it. Tucked all the way in the back, with the tags still dangling from it, was the last thing he expected to find in Casey McDonald's closet. A black leather motorcycle-style jacket.

"Put this on!" he demanded loudly, startling her. She looked like she was about to protest, but deciding the better of it, complied with a sigh. It fit great, hitting her in all the right places. The style was casual, but the jacket still looked nice, and didn't hide her figure.

"It doesn't look good on me," she insisted, facing the full-length mirror beside the closet. "I've never even worn it."

"WRONG. It's perfect. Flattering, but not trying to look good. Pair that with jeans and you have an outfit that will make you look hot, but give Ben no reason to believe you care what he, or anyone else thinks."

Casey stared at him for a moment, and Derek was afraid the inadvertent compliment had shocked her. But then, she burst out into laughter. "Thanks for the advice, Tim Gunn," she teased in between giggles.

"Tim who?" he stared at her in confusion.

"Tim Gunn? Project Runway? No? Oh well. You'd probably enjoy it, with your interest in fashion and all."

Okay, maybe he went a little overboard on styling her.

"I do _not_ have an interest in fashion. I have extensive knowledge of what guys find hot, and an interest in _the female body._" Casey's in particular. Especially covered in leather. But she didn't have to know that. In fact, she _shouldn't _know that.

"Whatever you say, Der," she said condescendingly. She wasn't going to let this whole fashion thing go anytime soon. But, he thought, as he bid her farewell and started his journey back to his apartment; at least it had distracted her from the fact that he had called her hot.


End file.
